


Same Drugs

by bestworstperson



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Bottom Eames (Inception), I don't care what any of you say Arthur is a top, I have one beat and it's this, I started writing and then there were 1400 words on the page, I'm Sorry, M/M, Oral Sex, Smut, the lightest of bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-02-08
Packaged: 2019-10-24 08:05:31
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,438
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17700590
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bestworstperson/pseuds/bestworstperson
Summary: Arthur and Eames were perfect together but it was never going to last. A surprise run-in at the bar sends them straight back to where they were.





	Same Drugs

It’d been months since they’d seen each other. They ran in decidedly separate circles so it was jarring when they found themselves face to face in a bar. A charitable descriptor would be “grungy”, but it’s a downright shit hole. Which is why Eames’ breath catches in his throat when he lays eyes on the man in front of him.

“Ar-Arthur?” It sounded like a question. 

“Eames,” Arthur says. Composed as ever. 

“This...isn’t your usual spot. What-what are you doing here?” Eames cursed himself internally. His sentences were stilted. He was flustered. Arthur had always undone him, but this was supposed to his domain. His bar. The place he let his guard down.

“I’m on a date. Well, was. I was just leaving.” Arthur spoke quickly and confidently. Eames was shocked. The Arthur he knows would be unnerved by this place. Well. The Arthur he knew. 

\--

The breakup was the complete opposite of their relationship. Together they burned fast and hot. Eames was reckless and unrestrained, Arthur composed and restricted. They fed off the balance and were in denial long after both had had their fill. It fell apart slowly, painfully. It never grew into hatred, but they knew they weren’t good for each other. They were just too different. They never stopped wanting each other, but eventually, that wasn’t enough. 

\--

“Can I buy you a drink?” Eames asks. 

“I was just leaving,” Arthur says again.

“I-I know. But I thought. Come on, Arthur? For old times’ sake.” 

Arthur exhaled and smiled slightly. “For old times’ sake.” 

\--

It was like it used to be. Fast and hot. One drink turned into more and everything felt good again. Arthur made a show of admiring Eames, who gave it right back. They’re flirting aggressively and can’t keep their hands off each other. Eames ran a hand up Arthur’s thigh and leaned in close. His voice low. 

“I’m surprised you even agreed to meet that date of yours here. Like I said before, this place,” Eames’ eyes scanned the bar, “isn’t exactly your scene.”  
“Yes, well. I used to date someone who helped me loosen up. He loved places like this.” Arthur locked eyes with Eames. It was overwhelming. Eames looked away suddenly. It was all bringing him straight back to how it used to be. How they were. 

“Arthur,” Eames said. He pulled away but before he could lean back in his chair Arthur inched forward and grabbed his wrist. Something in Eames snapped and he pulled Arthur into a bruising kiss. It was passionate, it always had been. Both of them knew they were making a mistake, that they were starting down a dangerous path. 

“Please. Come home with me. I want you,” Eames said, breaking the kiss, their breathing labored. Without speaking Arthur threw a twenty on the bar and started toward the exit. Eames practically tripped over himself trying to follow. 

\--

They were all over each other from the second they hit the street until they reach Eames’ front door. While Eames fumbled with the keys, Arthur was merciless, rubbing his hand over Eames’ crotch as he struggled with the lock. Finally, the door gave way and Eames whipped around to pull Arthur through the threshold. 

“Are you sure?” Arthur asked.

Eames simply ground his hips against Arthur in response and pulled at the buttons on his waistcoat. 

“You always did love to get dressed up for me, darling.” 

\-- 

God, Eames had missed this. In the intervening months, there’d been others, sure, but Eames would be lying if he said any of them stacked up to Arthur. Arthur knew every curve of his body. When to be soft, when to push a little harder. He was leaving gentle bite marks down Eames’ thigh. 

Between panting breaths, Eames managed to get out a question. 

“Are you going to stay clothed the whole time?” 

“I thought you liked me dressed up? Staying all put together while I watch you come undone. Besides, I took off my tie.” Arthur’s eyes flashed quickly to Eames’ wrists bound to the headboard

“Yes, but -” 

Before he could finish his sentence Arthur took Eames’ length down his throat. 

“Fuck!” Eames shouted. 

Arthur swallowed and Eames’ hips bucked off the bed in response. Eames focused on his breathing. Just like before. Arthur in control, Eames gladly, willingly relinquishing it. 

Arthur released Eames but not even a second passed before he was dragging his tongue along the underside of Eames cock. It was almost torturously slow and when Arthur’s eyes glanced upwards, Eames felt paralyzed under his gaze. Arthur once again took Eames in his mouth, the head rubbing against the back of his throat. Eames almost comes on the spot. He once again focuses on his breathing, he can’t let this end too soon. The sex was never the foundation of their relationship but it was obviously an added benefit. 

“Arthur, please.” 

“No, no. I quite like where I have you.” Arthur licked gently at the head while a hand brushed lightly over Eames’ entrance. The unexpected touch lit Eames on fire. 

“God, yes!” Eames said through a shaky exhale. 

Encouraged, Arthur’s pointer finger breached the entrance. His fingers set a pace opposite that of his mouth and Eames was ecstatic. He writhed on the bed, his mouth a spewing a constant stream of obscenities. Arthur slid a second and third finger in and brushed up against that sensitive spot inside. If it were anyone else Eames would have protested. There wasn’t not enough prep so the burn was almost too intense, but Eames trusted Arthur more than he trusted anyone. Or least more than he had any right to now. 

Arthur released Eames’ cock and sat back on the bed, pupils blown wide. His fingers were still working Eames open and his eyes hungrily scanned his frame. 

“I missed you like this. Eager. Desperate. How many have there been since me? Did they make you feel this way? Make you squirm? Make you beg?” 

Eames whimpered at Arthur’s words. They both knew the answer. No. No one had ever, will ever, make Eames feel like this. It might be good, great even. But never like this. 

Arthur picked up the pace. His fingers were probing, the movements more deliberate.

“Good boy.” 

Eames whimpered again. He won’t last long now. Arthur bowed his head and his tongue darted quickly over the head of Eames’ cock. Eames’ lifted his hips in an effort to encourage Arthur. His breathing was too labored to speak his request. The sound was deafening and Arthur’s composure bordered on infuriating. 

Arthur’s head once again moved away and Eames nearly screamed in frustration. Arthur’s fingers stilled suddenly, resting precariously on Eames prostate. Eames tried to move further down the bed, a desperate attempt to close whatever space remained between them. Arthur started to move again. Slowly. Each brush of his prostate threatened to break Eames entirely, sending him over the edge he’d been dancing on for what felt like hours. Arthur steadily picked up the pace, moving in and out with renewed fervor, hitting that sweet spot inside every time. 

“Arthur,” Eames practically whispered

And Arthur’s mouth was once again on Eames’ cock and his hips jerked upwards. Arthur pulled back slightly at the sudden movement but didn’t stop. His mouth and hand matched pace and Eames finally gots his release. He’s coming down Arthur’s throat, who doesn’t let up. His orgasm was forceful and his body tensing almost painfully. He tried, in vain, to move his arms but they were still bound to the headboard. He’s trapped and, though Arthur finally released his cock, his hand wasn’t letting up, pushing deeper inside as Eames screamed in absolute ecstasy. 

When he finally comes down, Arthur makes quick work of undoing the restraints. As Eames stretched his limbs, he heard Arthur washing his hands in the kitchen. Arthur returned to the bedroom, placing a glass of water on the side table, and climbed in bed next to Eames. Silently he reached out and started massaging Eames’ wrists in an effort to relieve some of the pain and minimize any potential bruising. Neither one of them said anything. They knew that once they started, they wouldn’t be able to stop. There’s so much to go through. So many memories and emotions. They shouldn’t have done this. It was dangerous, reckless. Like Eames. Arthur was always powerless against that side of him. 

They’d have to talk about it eventually. But not tonight. Tonight was like it used to be. Passionate, heavy, intense. 

Perfect. 

Yes, they’d have to talk about it eventually. 

But not tonight.

**Author's Note:**

> Same Drugs by Chance the Rapper came on on my drive home. Started thinking about people that want each other but no longer work for each other. Then I came home and wrote this.


End file.
